Classic Poem

VERSE 1

SOCIETY WOMAN :

I met him at a party just a couple of years ago,
He was rather over-hearty and ridiculous,
But as I'd seen him on the Screen
He cast a certain spell.
I basked in his attraction for a couple of hours or so,
His manners were a fraction too meticulous,
If he was real or not I couldn't tell,
But like a silly fool, I fell.

REFRAIN 1

Mad about the boy,
I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy,
I'm so ashamed of it
But must admit
The sleepless nights I've had about the boy.
On the Silver Screen
He melts my foolish heart in every single scene.
Although I'm quite aware
That here and there
Are traces of the cad about the boy,
Lord knows I'm not a fool girl,
I really shouldn't care,
Lord knows I'm not a schoolgirl
In the flurry of her first affair.
Will it ever cloy,
This odd diversity of misery and joy?
I'm feeling quite insane
And young again
And all because I'm mad about the boy.

VERSE 2

SCHOOLGIRL :

Homework, homework,
Every night there's homework,
While Elsie practices, the gas goes pop,
I wish, I wish she'd stop.
Oh dear, oh dear,
Here it's always " No, dear,
You can't go out again, you must stay home,
You waste your money on that common Picturedrome,
Don't shirk — stay here and do your work. "
Yearning, yearning,
How my heart is burning.
I'll see him Saturday in Strong Man's Pain
And then on Monday and on Friday week again.
To me he is the sole man
Who can kiss as well as Colman,
I could faint whenever there's a close-up of his lips.
Though John Barrymore is larger,
When my hero's on his charger
Even Douglas Fairbanks, Junior, hasn't smaller hips.
If only he could know
That I adore him so.

REFRAIN 2

Mad about the boy,
It's simply scrumptious to be mad about the boy,
I know that quite sincerely
Housman really
Wrote The Shropshire Lad about the boy.
In my English Prose
I've done a tracing of his forehead and his nose
And there is, honor bright,
A certain slight
Effect of Galahad about the boy.
I've talked to Rosie Hooper,
She feels the same as me,
She says that Gary Cooper
Doesn't thrill her to the same degree.
In Can Love Destroy?
When he meets Garbo in a suit of corduroy,
He gives a little frown
And knocks her down.
Oh dear, oh dear, I'm mad about the boy.

VERSE 3

COCKNEY :

Every Wednesday afternoon
I get a little time off from three to eleven,
Then I go to the Picture House
And taste a little of my particular heaven.
He appears
In a little while,
Through a mist of tears
I can see him smiling
Above me.
Every picture I see him in,
Every lover's caress,
Makes my wonderful dreams begin,
Makes me long to confess
That if ever he looked at me
And thought perhaps it was worth the trouble to
Love me,
I'd give in and I wouldn't care
However far from the path of virtue he'd
Shove me.
Just supposing our love was brief,
If he treated me rough
I'd be happy beyond belief,
Once would be enough.

REFRAIN 3

Mad about the boy,
I know I'm potty, but I'm mad about the boy.
He sets me 'eart on fire
With love's desire,
In fact I've got it bad about the boy.
When I do the rooms
I see 'is face in all the brushes and the brooms.
Last week I strained me back
And got the sack
And 'ad a row with Dad about the boy.
I'm finished with Navarro,
I'm tired of Richard Dix,
I'm pierced by Cupid's arrow
Every Wednesday from four till six.
'Ow I should enjoy
To let 'im treat me like a plaything or a toy,
I'd give my all to him
And crawl to him,
So 'elp me Gawd, I'm mad about the boy.

VERSE 4

TART :

It seems a little silly
For a girl of my age and weight
To walk down Piccadilly
In a haze of love.
It ought to take a good deal more to get a bad girl down,
I should have been exempt, for
My particular kind of fate
Has taught me such contempt for
Every phase of love,
And now I've been and spent my last half-crown
To weep about a painted clown.

REFRAIN 4

Mad about the boy,
It's pretty funny, but I'm mad about the boy.
He has a gay appeal
That makes me feel
There's maybe something sad about the boy.
Walking down the street,
His eyes look out at me from people that I meet.
I can't believe it's true,
But when I'm blue
In some strange way I'm glad about the boy.
I'm hardly sentimental,
Love isn't so sublime,
I have to pay my rental
And I can't afford to waste much time.
If I could employ
A little magic that would finally destroy
This dream that pains me
And enchains me,
But I can't because I'm mad about the boy.

REFRAIN 5

Mad about the boy,
I know it's silly but I'm mad about the boy,
And even Doctor Freud
Cannot explain
Those vexing dreams I've had about the boy.
When I told my wife,
She said: " I've never heard such nonsense in my life! "
Her lack of sympathy
Embarrassed me
And made me frankly glad about the boy.
My doctor can't advise me,
He'd help me if he could;
Three times he's tried to psychoanalyze me,
But it's just no good.
People I employ
Have the impertinence to call me Myrna Loy.
I rise above it,
Frankly love it,
'Cos I'm absolutely mad about the boy!